May 15, 2020
Villanueva Estate, Philippines, Tacloban City-Atlas Controlled City
"98… 99… 100," Rafael Villanueva, 20 years old, completed his routine exercise with a handstand push-up as the morning sun shone around 6:00 AM. He wore only his gym shorts and was shirtless. Finishing his final set, he balanced himself, standing on two feet. He glanced at the expansive land, but soon his focus intensified.
"Huff… one handstand, let's do it," he muttered, repeating the exercise all the way to 100. His upper body bore small to large scars from his time as a mercenary, most notably a wide slash across his back from a sword wound. His physique wasn't overly muscular, but it clearly showed his progress.
Twenty minutes later, Rafael, also known as "Rafe," reflected on his life as a mercenary. After a plane crash—the plane, flying over Iraq, had been accidentally shot down—he had miraculously survived. A group of mercenaries had taken him in, training him in every way they could. At 18, he was reunited with his father. However, by then, he was secretly leading a global supercorporation named 'Atlas.' His role and position within Atlas were concealed, ensuring enemies focused on its CEO, his father's right-hand man.
The entire Villanueva family was unaware of his position. Rafael had never intended to reveal it; only a few world leaders and select individuals knew his true identity. He lived in the main family mansion in Tacloban City, Region VIII, Leyte, and had just finished his normal routine, one that would make an average person's bones crack.
Catching his breath, he tossed his 50kg dumbbells a few feet away. This routine was deeply ingrained in him, a stark reminder of his mentors who had died in the last 'mission' he vividly remembered.
'Remember, either die here or throw that dumbbell. If you don't, you will have no dinner for the rest of your life,' he recalled one of his mentors, a former Russian GRU operative, saying.
Knock, knock.
"Young master, Master Hector wishes for you to eat breakfast with him," a middle-aged man in a head butler's suit announced, his eyes settling on Rafael's figure as he entered the room. The sight of the old wounds saddened him. Despite being 40, he still remembered the young master's departure from the mansion years ago and his return with the marks of a mercenary's survival. He also sensed the change in the young master's aura, a newfound cautiousness towards everyone in the mansion, except perhaps his father and himself, along with the servants.
Even though he tried to make Rafael feel at home, the young master maintained a careful distance, ensuring no one posed a threat.
"Sure, Ben. Inform my father I'll be down in ten minutes," Rafe replied, taking a heavy step forward as he dragged a 200 kg weight chained to his chest. Each step elicited a grunt, but his body wasn't tired; it was merely warming up.
Fifteen minutes later, in the Villanueva dining room, Rafael entered to find his father halfway through his meal. His own food was placed near his father's. Having changed into dark grey shorts and a breathable dark red shirt, he sat down and ate in silence, offering a silent nod to his father, who returned it.
A few minutes later, Rafael casually sipped his iced coffee mocha vanilla, scrolling through news on a phone bearing the Atlas emblem. He heard his father's voice.
"Son, I have some news to share. Please put that down before you spit it out," Hector said, setting down his newspaper. Rafael complied, slowly placing his drink down and asking, "So, what's the news?"
"During the time I was searching for you across the world, I made a few deals with powerful, influential, and well-known families. Despite my reputation allowing me to consider myself their equal, they are more established. To tap into their information network regarding your whereabouts, I arranged a few marriage treaties. Now that you're 18 and approaching 20, all the families involved will hold a summit in the future to grant you an exception for a polygamous life." He paused, noticing the internal shock rippling through Rafael's body.
'This can't be,' Rafael thought. In the future, he desired a family, but he wanted to enjoy his youth first before marriage.
"What if I refuse?" Rafe asked cautiously, bracing himself for the answer.
"It's not possible anymore, since they've already invested a lot to find you," his father replied.
'Motherfucker!' Rafe screamed internally.
"They will be transferring to our school, but their identities are confidential from you until they arrive," Hector said, intentionally withholding the information at the other families' request. He knew his son had diverse connections and wanted to control their first meeting. Only then would chaos ensue, given his son's mercenary history, which revealed encounters with capable soldiers now influential figures or vaguely described as super soldiers.
'Like hell I will allow it,' Rafe thought. His father didn't know the extent of his capabilities, so he might as well prevent the treaties from proceeding and would have to dig for information.
"Son, do it for me. At least try surviving it. I don't want you to be submissive, but your mother also agreed," Hector said with a small smile, silently urging him to fight to survive.
"Father, I won't go down without a fight, you know me," Rafael said with a serious face, standing up and leaving.
"Well, decisions have consequences," Hector murmured as Ben stood silently behind him.
One hour later, Rafael, dressed in his school uniform, opted to ride his Atlas Dynamics-created motorcycle instead of a car with bodyguards. His father had hired inspectors for the vehicle, but these individuals were under Rafael's command and reported it as a normal vehicle with a retro design. In the back compartment, he retrieved his military-grade motorcycle helmet. The entire motorcycle, seemingly ordinary, was actually high military grade, exceptionally protected with multiple failsafes.
VRMMMMMMMM VRMMMMMM
The engine roared to life. He immediately exited the estate gate, followed at a safe distance by two black Land Rovers. Being the heir to a large criminal empire necessitated a heavy escort, but no assassin could easily enter the city, as it was entirely under Atlas's control. His family held 40% influence, a concession he had made. High authorities in the local government knew the Administrator was currently in the city, requiring background checks for every individual, suspicious or not.
After a few minutes of driving, he parked his motorcycle at his favorite 7-Eleven, where he usually bought lunch and other items. He spotted an old friend.
"Morning, sir," a man of Middle Eastern descent, European-born, greeted him.
"No need to be so formal, Hassan. How's the job maintaining this place?" Rafael asked, heading to the chips section for salted peanuts and chips and grabbing a medium iced coffee.
"Come on now, Rafe, you know I'm taking this part-time job seriously," Hassan responded. His codename was Emir, known as the greatest swordsman of Asia, earning him the nickname 'the weaving storm.' His trusty sword was always nearby, disguised as a broom.
"Even though you're taking this semi-retirement seriously… Any intruders entering the city recently?" he asked after a pause, knowing he was alone in the store earlier.
"Currently, there has been a build-up of people from different nationalities. I already requested the CIA to look into it, and they've sent me some info, but it's not enough to form a theory. Our agency is taking much longer than expected," he sighed, having connections across various global intelligence agencies.
"Okay, we can theorize that they gatekept more of the information due to those families having stronger intel network defenses," Rafael replied, knowing Atlas's influence wasn't large enough to tackle them all, even with their 'superpower for hire' reputation.
"Yes, and most of their bases of operations are closely monitored by our agents, who've reported they are purchasing nearby mansions near your family home. We managed to purchase those houses before they fully paid, but soon enough, they might try to attack you," he said, handing Rafael a paper bag with his items and adding, "The information you're going to need, sir, is at the bar tonight. I hope you have a good day," with a smile and a wave. Rafe waved back.
As Rafael left the store, Hassan noticed an unidentified vehicle. Inside were two Japanese men who looked like typical yakuza. He pulled out a keypad phone and dialed an unknown number.
"Yes, it's me. I'd like to inform you that two people are following the 'Administrator.' I think he wishes for these bugs to be removed," he told the person on the other end.
[Acknowledge], the person replied, and the line went dead, the number vanishing from records. Hassan turned back to the cashier as the vehicle continued to follow Rafael until they reached an intersection. Rafael crossed, and the car followed suit.
HOOOOOOONNNKKKKKK
A 10-wheeler truck ran the red light, smashing into the car, killing the two occupants instantly. The driver seemed to have accelerated instead of braking for maximum impact. Rafael was already quite far away.
"Threat neutralized, requesting clean-up crew on site," a person in civilian clothes said, ending the call and blending into the crowd after tucking his phone away.
Rafael's Location
Rafael entered the gate of his school, funded and administered by Atlas through the Fernazia Integrated Education Group, a vassal state or subsidiary. Security was provided by Atlas.
"Morning, sir," the school's chief of security offered a small wave, and Rafael nodded in return.
He observed students entering the school. Cars ranging from middle-class to upper-class dropped off their children, while school buses delivered students from orphanages and those living far away, who resided in on-campus dorms. He had his own dorm room in one of the two apartment complexes, each over 20 floors and reinforced like a fortress, with a capacity of over 1,000 students. Currently, over 150 students stayed in each dorm.
Arriving at the private parking space beneath the dorm buildings, where he had stashed his 'tools,' he parked his motorcycle and headed to the elevator, pressing the button for the 21st floor. Only executives and security personnel were stationed there. He had a studio room on this floor, which he used as a storage dump, containing a military bed and extra clothes.
The room had a thick, reinforced steel door secured by biometrics and a code. After inputting them, he stepped inside as the lights illuminated racks of high-caliber guns, enough bullets to arm a small army, and various kinds of ammunition, each box bearing the Atlas logo. Mannequins in different combat gear stood around the room, adorned with polished and sharpened knives. Stacks of crates filled with weapons, bullets, and attachments completed the arsenal.
Twenty minutes later, in the senior high building, having cleaned his weapons, he made his way to the building as the first subject was about to begin. The need to study didn't really bother him much; he could still get good grades even with minimal attendance.
"Hey Rafe, how's life been going?" a blonde boy asked, his aristocratic appearance complemented by a charming smile as he approached Rafael.
"It's been good, Michael, just a few hiccups getting here," Rafael replied. He and Michael were old teammates from their days in the field, consistently assigned to assault units with a 90% success rate.
"And at what percent are the records wiped clean?" Rafael asked, his tone masking his seriousness. Michael was part of a family renowned for controlling multiple businesses across Southeast Asia, Europe, and America. Their tradition involved banishing their heirs for ten years to cultivate their skills from the ground up. However, they hadn't anticipated the abandonment of their friends and allies following Michael's swift expulsion from the family.
This included his fiancée, who left after her family forced her to break up with him. Despite this series of betrayals, Michael remained positive. Instead of staying in the assigned city to build his skills under his family's watchful eyes, he lived in Singapore, where he met Rafael, who was recruiting for a mission given by his mentors.
They quickly bonded, and Michael vanished from his family's radar. They didn't even know his last location. When they sent investigators, Michael personally dealt with them, killing them without much thought from the family, and his tracks were meticulously clean.
After serving four years, he also became one of the founders of Atlas Corps, taking on the role of manager when Rafael was busy or unwilling to work. This title merely oversaw his personal guard and involved most of his work in the shadows.
"90%, but that remaining 10% was somehow leaked to my family. After searching for a while, I found the guy. He was a family informant and sent the file to a handler in their network. He even recognized me, and can you believe he begged me to come back? Like hell I would go back to that boring life. I sent his head as a warning while our CEO inspected the corps again and initiated another round of purges," he said, reminiscing.
To be continued…